The woman in the mirror
by Sarah SteamDoll
Summary: A story of love, crime and trasformation...
1. Chapter 1: The woman in the mirror

This is my first try on writing a fanfic

**This is my first try on writing a fanfic. I have no experience, so Id like to be highly criticized! Also, if I have grammar or spelling mistakes, **_**please**_** let me know, because Im not an English native speaker...**

**The Joker created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. Nora created by **_**me**_

**Part I:**** "**_**The woman in the mirror"**_

- Put that on

- How did you know my size?

- Put that on! - And he soundly walked down the stairs

Silently, she picked up the clothing from the floor where he'd thrown it. It was an exquisite black ballet outfit, with long brocade sleeves, stretched in the elbows and wider in the shoulders, so it really looked more like a clown suit. Once she was ready, she went down the stairs to an almost empty room, where only a mirror dared to fit as furniture. He was standing by the window, starring at nowhere.

- Well, how do I look?

He slowly turned around, sticking his smoked eyes into hers, melting all the words she wanted to add to that childish question she'd made. Then he walked by the room, stepping strongly enough to produce an annoying sound, surrounding her till she began to feel as uncomfortable as a bug under a microscope, shrinking her shoulders in a useless attempt to protect herself. Then he looked at the mirror.

- The question, my dear, is not how you look, but how do you _feel._

He used that amused bouncy tone to remark the last word. The silence that followed was very unpleasant. She needed to say something, she knew it, but she wasn't able to do anything else but keep looking at her own image in the mirror, he behind her, grinding.

- Has the cat eaten your tongue? Come on; don't be shy, not with me. Move a little bit, so you can tell me how it…_feels _

At that point, she couldn't resist the view any longer and she shot her eyes. She felt his strong hands shaking her arms, forcing her to move all over; she seemed nothing more that a puppet, a floppy doll ready to be tried, clay in his hands. His face was so close she could feel the greasy touch of his hair and cheek, but somehow it wasn't bad, not at all… was she letting herself go on every feeling he could possibly deliver?, moreover, was she wanting for it?, but of course she couldn't even imagine what was the answer for that questions. Finally, she managed to speak. Her voice was a whisper, but then it grew stronger. She opened her eyes.

- I-I feel… I feel good

"Good?!" he said, pretending being disappointed "Just good?! Girl you should feel the way you look… _ssstunning_". Now his lips were closer to her left ear, his words flowing in a non – stop road right through her head. An ice-cold shiver went up to her back and was stopped by his hand near the neck. Her legs, two jelly-gums.

- See, I love giving presents to people. Presents of all kind. Sometimes I give temporary presents and sometimes more… everlasting ones, like these…

He passed his gloved fingers by his scars, bowing the head just a little bit so she could have full view. He continued.

- I've got another present for you

He kneeled over a bag in the floor, on the left side of the room. After a while, he stood up and faced her for the first time in their conversation; he was holding a little purple box on his right hand. Softly, he took her hand and placed it in his cheek, pressing hardly onto the white make-up. She took the box and opened it. Inside, there were two pots of artistic make-up, black and white, and a red lipstick.

- You know – he wandered around the room- One of my favorites spare time activities is looking at people's face and imagine them wearing my make-up – he flirted his hands on front of his face- When I was in Arkham, I used to spend hours looking at the inmates in the yard, trying to figure out who of them would look better… but none of them made the cut!

The pitch of his voice was increasing as he recalled, compulsively making gestures in the air. It seemed as he wouldn't be able to talk if one could tie his arms up. He continued

- Then, when I managed getting the hell out of that filthy pit, I had the whole Gotham City as my Guinea pig. But see… it seems like this city doesn't like to _grind_ anymore, they're not very good at _smiling_… they won't catch the joke, not even if it was on front of their stupid little faces!, because they like _explanations_, and when you have to explain a joke, it becomes unfunny!

She listened to him, not a single word coming out of her mouth, for she understood: he didn't want a comment; he only wanted to be heard, he wanted to teach her how things were going to be for now on. The box was still on her hands. There was no furniture where she could put it, so the only place was the floor; she put it down very carefully, glancing at him while she stood up and recovered her initial position. He didn't notice the movement, so concentrated he was, wandering by the room. Suddenly, he approached to her so she could feel his warm breath all over her face.

- But then… I saw…_you_. A righteous young cop who can _really_ smile.

Grinding, he put his index finger under her chin to make her look right at him. With his teeth, he removed the left hand glove and passed his fingers by the painted face, then smeared the painting on her forehead till the cheek, brushing her lips just a little bit.

- Now my dearest one, I want you to put a _sssmile_ on your face!

At last she was able to understand. Or so she believed. But the feeling was not clear in her mind yet… she had left her job as a cop by her own will, disappearing to all the people who had ever known her, looking for an explanation for her behavior, the righteous young police woman as he had called her, Detective Stephens's second hand…all wasted by an obsession, an obsession for a psychopathic mass murderer clown with no empathy... how could she ever be clear at her own feelings?. Her lips were trembling as the words came out.

- Bu- but, but… why? I mean, I don't know about your intentions, I don't know if you're gonna _hurt_ me eventually… I mean, youv--

The phrase was replaced by a choked scream. In a rage, he took her by her hair behind the nape and pulled it forward, so their faces were at one centimeter each other. He made a quick movement and a blade appeared between his fingers; she could feel a dead cold running into her insides… His fury was the scariest thing she had ever seen, and she had front tickets to watch it. Her eyes wanted to be shot so badly, but now she wasn't in control… and all of a sudden, he put his lips onto hers, in a hideous yet delightful kiss. He stuck his tongue onto her mouth, deeper and deeper, till she thought she wouldn't be able to breathe anymore. If something could be horrible and delicious at the same time, his kiss would win the prize. He grabbed her up stronger against his body, making his way to the mirror, until she felt the hit… her back had cracked the crystal and the pieces were falling to the floor. He was still kissing her when she started to fight back, her hands pressing his arms with all their strength, the fingers tensed, the nails sinking down as hard as she could… nothing, nothing was enough to pull him back and made him stop… but, was she really wanting him to stop? He bite her lip so roughly she almost passed out. And then, the blood. Warm, salty and metallic taste digging violently into her throat, intoxicant yet fresh and calming. He rudely knocked her down to the floor. It all had ended.

After that, silence. The night had slowly taken the city alleys as if they were yearning for some shade, for some reason to get wicked. She was shivering on the floor, trying to deal with the painting in her shocked face, her nails broken, her hands clumsily drawing black spots in her eyes. He was standing at the same place where it all begun: by the window, starring at nowhere. She could almost hear the distant biting of her heart, still putting his pieces together… was it a dream? Did he really mean to kiss her or just make her suffering? No, neither suffering nor delight, just the perfect mixture between the two opposites. And she had the feeling, yes, she couldn't deny. Suddenly, she looked into the broken mirror, her face cracked in more than seven parts, and what she'd expected to see was not there… Nora wasn't there anymore, because if that woman were Nora, she would be crying, regretting for her horrible luck, blaming herself for being so weak, feeble as a little stupid child…no, the women in the reflection wasn't Nora, for the woman in the mirror was… _smiling_

- See? I'm smiling, smiling at last! Look at me, J, look at me, look at me look at me! HAHAHAHA…

He started a slow clapping, walking towards her. A certain expression was grown into his face, something she couldn't define at the first moment… was he pleased? Was he _proud_ of her? Finally she had broken through into what he wanted her to be, a free person, a smiling girl eager for more experiences, good or bad, pleasant or painful, dangerous or safe. Nothing was important now, nothing at all… she had become more like him, and she was sure it was just the beginning. And he was so damn right: madness is like gravity, it only needs a little _push._

But the night had just begun.


	2. Chapter 2: Happy mask night

This is the second chapter of my beloved Mistah Js alter-story

**This is the second chapter of my beloved Mistah Js alter-story. Right now I****'m on a checking process of chapter III and IV. Wish me luck...**

**The Joker created by Bob Kane and Bill Fingers. Nora created by **_**me**_**.**

**Part II: "Happy mask night"**

Cold night. Gotham City alleys. A service stairway coming right through the first floor, where trash cans, garbage and a couple of homeless gathered around behind the shadows. Two silhouettes moving faster than a cat, avoiding the spotlights as they went down the stairs. The first one, taller, grabbed the other by the wrist so it couldn't go any further. In the dark, they spoke.

- Happy _Halloween_- said he, in a whisper

- Happy Halloween to you- said she, in a grave tone

A kinky expression ran deeply into his face, as he brushed her lower lip with the thumb; there was a partially coagulated blood stain right where he put his finger. She showed a broad sarcastic grind as an unmistakable answer.

- Did you like it? – he asked, sticking his dark eyes into hers

- I did

- Well, this I can tell you for sure, girl: there'll be _more_

She could hardly move, trapped between his arms, her back still sore by the pieces of broken glass that had sank down into her skin, so strong was he squeezing against his own body. They spent a couple of seconds like this, his arm in her back, the fingers searching for the places where the crystal had made its mark on her white skin, the little wounds that stung more than she wanted to admit, but the pain was acceptable, even pleasant…their faces were closer enough to see the pupils shimmering in the dark, closer to feel the touch of their hair. They looked each other deeply in the eye, as if they wanted to guess what was going on inside both their minds; but he knew it, or at least he could make a very accurate approximation, and eventually, she was aware of that. Then, he let her go, slowly.

- C'mon. Gotta lot o' work to do

Outside the alley, the streets were crowded. Groups of teenagers going on Halloween parties, drinking and having good time. Perfect, he said to himself, it couldn't be a better night, a night of disguises, thorn faces and harsh voices…a night of masks. He looked for something underneath his coat. She kept starring at what he was doing.

- Ok, my little clown pal. It's mask time!

She had seen that mask before, in a corner of her memory she knew it: _Grumpy! _She bumped up a little bit, smirking and giving a happy clap in the air at the sight of that clown rubber mask. The look he threw to her was full of rejoiced surprise.

- Wow… so, you've seen this before, don't you?

Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed her cheek gently but firm, sliding another different mask through her face. It was a plastic cold theatrical mask, all white, not a single spot of color apart from a huge black smile, cutting her lips by the corners. He grinded in satisfaction, as if he was studying a piece of art-work he's just finished. He took his own Grumpy mask and put it on, and made his way towards the open street, she holding his hand like a little child. The night was in its prelude.

He was walking purposely, quick and tight steps. She noticed a unique way of moving on this man; it seemed like one moment or another he could stumble on his own feet, then he recovered his pace, confident. His back swayed constantly as he moved forward, dodging people at ease, with agile, gentle, even graceful movements. She was carried in smooth steps, his big gloved hand squeezing her wrist in a nervous grab, as if he was afraid she could get loose… sometimes he intertwined his fingers to hers, but just a little bit, perhaps only to see what it felt like, then put them away. That uncertain behavior made her confused, for she was just getting used to his sudden mood changes; she really wanted to understand, and at that point she felt – she _knew_- she could get closer to this walking mystery he was.

As they were getting mingled with people on the streets, a bunch of punks saw the costumed couple going around the corner to the next alley. They couldnt hide the laugh while slowly approximate.

- Hey, thats hell of a costume, dude! – Said one- Geez, you almost look like that murderer clown… whats the name?

_- The Joker!_ - said the other. The rest burst out laughing.

The boy wasnt in his twenties yet, one could tell for the way of talking, daring and childish at the same time. He went around them while the rest of the group got closer and closer; she was calm, studying the situation. "Theyre just kids, no guns, no visible weapons, and a little too much alcohol in their breath… not a hard threat, as a matter of fact" He looked like he was having great fun, smirking inside his mask, producing a hollowed sound as he took a jaunty position, bowing the head to the right side. He wanted to listen a bit more of what this character had to say.

- What's the matter with you, man? Are you high or deaf-mute? Take out that god damned mask! I said I like your outfit!

- Suddenly, something changed. She noticed a strain, sort of a tension, as if the air were gotten thicker, while he took slow steps forward, moving his left hand inside the cuff. "Thats it!" she though "thats what I didnt see a while ago, when he put the knife on my face… that movement, right there!" Only the fingers trembled, like a slide of hands, and how obvious was what happened next. A second later, the boy's head was trapped between a powerful arm and a sharp blade. Nobody made a sound or a move. His words were poured in a deadly tone.

- And I say…_thank_ _you!_

Next thing they know, a terrifying bunch of punks were leaving their places and running in different direction. The boy was still shivering, his hands trying to reach out something on the back, making funny flappings in the air, yet the relentless blade in his right cheek. After a moment, he slowly released his prey. Not a word came through his mouth, as the kid made his way far from there as fast as the legs let him. Covering his face he ran, but not before looking backwards from a safe distance and throwing an appalled affront

-Y-you cant be _him_, you know? You cant be _that Joker_ guy! Anybody could make a mimic, imitate the voice, ya' know? Youre a copycat…you have to be… you have to…!

She saw him wagging the knife gracefully one hand to another, looking right to the escaping boy. Then, he put the blade softly inside his coat, in an elegant movement. She was impressed, not for the violence, of course, it was not as she hasnt seen that before, but because of the relationship –if one could call it so- he had with the knife. An extension of his own body, that was the key, they way he had to communicate, to express, the only chance to show himself to the world.

He fixed his mask and looked at her throught the eyes holes. Because of the dark paint, it seemed as if there wasn´t any expression in his eyes or face, but she knew he was grinding widely. She stayed the same position: hips to one side, arms crossed over the chest. Behind the white theatrical mask, she was grinding as well, and he knew it. No words came from his mouth as he approached to her, careless messing his hair; the untidy green locks gave him hell of a wild look, like a aggressive hunter threatening his prey; but as she spent more and more time by his side, she started to reject the feeling of being hunted…she was starting to think of herself as a huntress too, a side-kicker who had a starring role in the party, whatever he had had prepared for it.

They spent a few moments like this. She was getting used to his body shape, his movements, and his words. From this point, there was no turning back; she knew it from the very first moment, but knowing was not enough, _understanding…_ understanding was something else.


	3. Chapter 3: Inside his head

**Third chapter, little bit short this time, kind of a link between chapters... and still writing… Enjoy!**

**"The Joker" created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. Nora created by _me_**

**Part III: _"Inside his head"_**

-So- said she, trying to be serious – Are we going to go… _somewhere? _

-Ahhh… I perceive a bit of anxious feeling going round there

-It was just a question. But care not, for now I`m beginning to like your little surprises.

He laughed soundly, taking off his mask and grabbing her arm towards him. But something had change, he could tell; her body was no longer at the defensive, her touch was more receptive, she wasn`t fighting anymore. Was she "transforming" herself that fast? Time had passed since she left the police corps and reconsider her righteous life, that much is true, but as a matter of fact, they had met each other just a couple of days ago; that made him think on how funny could life be sometimes…right now, she was dealing with her own madness, a madness she couldn`t possibly understand nor accept, moreover, she tried to resist it by becoming an agent of law and justice, her perfect antithesis to what was laying deep inside. Now, a statement came into his mind, words he himself had pronounce time ago, in some curious and quite uncomfortable circumstances.

-Oh girl, that`s the kind of thing that puts a smile on my face, y' know? See, you reminded me of this guy I used to know. His story is quite tragic, but anyway, he was in a… let`s say, kind of _predicament_ once, he had to made a choice, a really important choice, and of course as every natural human being, he was afraid; he needed that extra bonus of courage and adrenaline which makes you dare to do things. He needed a push, and as you should know, madness is like---

-Gravity! - Said she, all of a sudden- madness is like gravity: it only needs a little _push_!

He guffawed so strong he jumped. Nothing could be more surprisingly delightful than she ending his own phrases. She continued, inspired by a new emotional strength, her arms folded over the chest.

-What? Impress? Well, you shouldn`t. I`ve made my research, you know? But that`s not important now, because I know what you mean… you think I`m being a victim of this gravity, and yes, I needed a push so you gave it to me. The thing is…

-Yes? - he was truly interested now

-The thing is I don`t want to be a victim anymore. For now on, I refuse to be a victim.

He stopped to think about that, and what he found was terrific; this girl, inside her black ballet outfit and make up was taking the next step, throwing an unmistakable war calling and that, he has to admit, was turning him on to death and giving him the creeps, both at the same time. He took little steps to her; she stood right there waiting for an answer.

Look at you go! My little clown pal has everything right round there, me thinks. I just have one question for you, dear

What?

Well, is it comfortable _in_ there?

What do you mean?

There... – his tone became dark and rough as he lifted a hand over his temple- Inside. My. Head…

They got into a black car. The night was getting cold, but they both were burning in excitement. He drove rudely through the crowded streets, where common people were having their common parties at the common celebration of Halloween; nobody could ever minded them, as they moved by the city on their own frequency. She put a hand on his knee and kept looking right into his face, perhaps trying to reach out something of his sweet bloody madness, perhaps trying to find out what he was all about, or about her… by that time, the night had eaten them alive; from now on, everything could happen.


End file.
